


call it what you want

by HeartonFire



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Frank loves Karen, Guns, Happy Ending, Hospitals, Hostage Situations, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Punisher season 1, Rescue, Resolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, but not always the way you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-13 07:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12979347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartonFire/pseuds/HeartonFire
Summary: Karen is trying to put the past in the past and move forward with her life, but will her past ever really let her go?





	1. hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Kastle fic, but this ship has been killing me for weeks now. There are so many great stories on here with these two, and I've been loving them all. This idea popped into my head and I thought I would give writing it a shot. Enjoy!

Karen knew she needed to move on. Get back out there. And if she didn’t, her mom was going to keep saying it to her until she at least gave it a shot. Even if her mom thought she was still mourning Matt Murdock, not another vigilante who had barged into her life and blown it to hell before disappearing like a ghost. That was what she got for reaching out to her family after years of telling them nothing about her life.

Sighing, she glanced at her watch. “Shit,” she breathed, pulling heels onto her feet as she stumbled towards the door of her apartment. She wasn’t fond of being late, but she also didn’t especially want to go out tonight. Not for this.

She glanced at herself in the mirror and sighed, smoothing her hair and dabbing at a shiny spot on her forehead with a little powder. It would have to do.

Halfway there, she realized she had forgotten to put on earrings. Cursing inwardly to herself, she kept walking. It was way too late to go back now.

She found the bar he had suggested and half wished she had insisted on going to Josie’s. That was her home turf, at least. This was some swanky cocktail bar that was filled with men in suits and women in skirts. People she thought she had left behind a long time ago.

Scanning the room, she caught the eye of a man in a gray suit who perked up and stood to greet her.

“Karen?” he asked, holding out his arms a little awkwardly, like he was going to hug her.

“James,” she said, sliding into the seat beside his before he could touch her. Not off to a great start, she chided herself.

“Please, call me Jimmy. Everyone does.”

She nodded and put on her best smile while he talked. He spoke quickly, fingers circling the rim of his glass of whiskey.

“What can I get you?” the bartender said, and Karen felt her mind whirring to come up with an answer.

“I’ll take an IPA. Whichever one you like best,” she said, and the bartender smiled.

“Beer?” Jimmy said, eyebrow raised.

“Beer,” Karen said. She took the cold glass from the bartender and Jimmy held up his to clink against hers.

“To blind dates and friends who obviously like me a lot.”

Karen felt her smile growing tight, but Jimmy didn’t seem to notice. As she took the first sip of her drink, she felt a shiver down her spine, like someone was watching her.

Shaking it off, she tried to focus back on Jimmy, who was telling her all about his job as an investment banker. He was cute, in that clean-cut kind of way that her mom would absolutely love, but there was nothing behind those brown eyes besides nervous energy. Not like the soulful brown eyes she was fairly sure she would never see again.

Tears sprang embarrassingly to her eyes when she thought about the fight in the park. At the carousel, where all of this had begun. No one had reported what had really happened and no one would talk to her about it. Ellison had told her to let it go, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Are you alright?” Jimmy said, staring at her with alarm.

“Yes,” she said, blinking the tears back and blushing hard. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

“Sure,” he said, slumping back against his seat and staring after her as she walked away.

Karen made it to the luxurious bathroom before the tears started to fall. She was _not_ ready for this. Not yet. And not with this guy. What had she been thinking?

She just had to make it through the night, though, and she could do that. She could be pleasant and push down all the thoughts of bullets and blood and guns and smoke that filled her memories and her dreams. She could forget the look in Frank Castle’s eyes in the moment before he climbed out of an elevator one-handed and bleeding from yet another gunshot wound. She could forget his hand on her, checking that she was safe after the bomb went off. She could forget the way his arms had clutched her in a desperate hug in the middle of her apartment. She could forget it all.

Clearing her throat, she dabbed at her eyes with a paper towel and clutched at the edge of the sink, knuckles white with the strain. She had to forget. She had to forget and she had to move on.

“It’s what Frank would want,” she muttered to herself. She thought she saw a flash of movement in the corner of the mirror, but when she whirled around, she was alone. “Pull yourself together, Page.”

She gritted her teeth and walked back out to where Jimmy was sitting. He was chatting animatedly to the slender brunette beside him. She might have been an investment banker herself, maybe some fancy lawyer, if her tailored suit was any indication. Her hand was on his arm and Karen expected to feel jealousy, humiliation, _something_. But as she stared at the place where they were touching, she felt hollow. Empty. She couldn’t even muster up a tiny scrap of anger.

He at least had the decency to look a bit sheepish when he spotted her, but she just shook her head and turned for the door. She glanced back and his attention was back on the woman beside him before she had even pulled the door open.

She bumped into someone as she walked outside. “He wasn’t worth your time,” the man growled. She jumped a little, mind jumping to the gun in her purse and how long it would take for her to get it out.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, he wasn’t worth your time anyway.” The man pushed back his hood a little, and she felt her heart stop when she saw a familiar profile.

“Frank,” she said, reaching towards him. She had to make sure he was really there. For all she knew, she was finally losing touch with reality entirely. Her hand brushed his shoulder and he tensed. Karen pulled her hand back like she had been burned. She clutched it to her chest, tingles racing over her skin.

“Ma’am,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” She started scanning the street for gangs, guns, anything that would bring a man like Frank Castle here.

“Just in the neighborhood,” he said. They started to walk, falling into step beside each other. It was a chilly night and Karen had forgotten a coat in her hurry to get out the door. She shivered, and Frank pulled off his overcoat to drape it over her shoulders. His warmth and his scent enveloped her and she felt like she might cry again.

“In the neighborhood?” she said. She raised her eyebrows and was pleased that her voice didn’t shake. Not at all.

And if it did, Frank was good enough not to mention it. “Yeah. Trying to branch out a little. See some new people.” She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes didn’t quite meet hers and she nudged him with her shoulder.

“You lying to me now?”

His dark eyes flashed up to meet hers and she felt another shiver race through her, one completely unrelated to the temperature.

“Never.”

“You couldn’t call? Send me a note? Leave some flowers? Something to let me know you were okay?”

He looked down at the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. “I had some things to take care of first.”

Karen wasn’t sure her eyebrows could go up any higher, but he was certainly testing that theory. “Like what?”

He huffed out that frustrated laugh of his and she felt his eyes on her again. “I wanted to be better before I saw you again.”

“Better? Better than what?”

“Better than I was.”

“And are you?”

He shrugged, and Karen stopped walking, touching his wrist to get him to face her.

“Frank,” she said. His eyes were fixed on the place where her fingers were just grazing his bare skin. “Frank.” He looked at her and it was like the last few years had fallen away. He looked open, almost vulnerable. Or at least as vulnerable as the Punisher ever could be. “I just wanted to know you were okay.”

He nodded, smile snarling onto his face. “Still all heart, aren’t you?”

“I guess so. It’s good to see you without any blood or bruises,” she said, and his smile widened. It might have been the first time she had seen him really smile, all the way up to his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess that’s part of it.”

“It’s just good to see you,” she said, and before she knew what she was doing, she was hugging him, hard. His arms wrapped around her and she felt the heat of his hands on her back, like furnaces sending warmth through her whole body. She had tried to push away the memory of holding him like this, being held like this, but it all came rushing back, like they were still swaying in her apartment and no time had passed.

“So, where have you been?” she said, pulling back and wiping hurriedly at her eyes. Frank looked away, but she thought she saw a few tears shining in his eyes too. When she looked again, his eyes were dry, but she knew what she had seen. They started walking again, and Karen waited for him to respond to her question. He always did.

“Getting my head on straight.” He chuckled a little to himself. “Or at least on straight _er_.”

“No more Punisher?” she asked, and immediately regretted it when she felt Frank tense beside her. “I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s okay,” he said through a grimace. “I did what I set out to do. I’m done.”

Karen could honestly say she had never been more shocked in her life. “You’re just done now?”

He shrugged, hands back in his pockets. “That so hard to believe?”

They were nearly to Karen’s building and she remembered a night, a night that felt like a lifetime ago when she had walked home with someone else and hadn’t wanted the walk to end. This felt the same, but somehow more dangerous. Something was still unfinished.

She didn’t have to tell Frank which building was hers, and she would have been surprised that he remembered if she hadn’t known him so well. He didn’t forget things like that. He wouldn’t forget her like that.

“Frank, can I ask you something?”

He raised an eyebrow, turning to face her again. “You always do.”

She smiled, despite herself. “How did you know where I would be tonight?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, muscle in his jaw clenching. “What makes you think I was there for you?”

“You just told me you’re not doing that stuff anymore, so what else would you have been doing in that part of town?”

“You always were too smart for your own good,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Why were you following me?”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“It was just a blind date, Frank,” she said, watching the way his teeth ground at the words.

“Yeah, with some asshole who couldn’t even wait five minutes before moving on to the next girl. You deserve better than that, more than that.”

Karen felt like all the air was being sucked out of her lungs as Frank took a step towards her. “Frank,” she murmured. She shook her head and started to say something, but he took her hands and she couldn’t even breathe. She stared down at their joined hands and felt the sparks running over her whole body.

“No, you do. You deserve someone who actually gives a shit about something besides himself. Who can’t even see anyone else when you’re in the room. Who can’t wait until you come back. Who misses you as soon as you’re gone.”

Karen cleared her throat, Frank’s eyes boring into her. “Someone like you?”

As soon as she said it, his hands were off hers and he was taking a step back. She could breathe again, but the air was icy as it burned its way down into her lungs.

“No.” She reached for him, but he backed up further, blinking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “No. Someone nothing like me.”

Karen felt her heart shattering as he turned around and walked away from her, vanishing into the shadows under the dark night sky.

She was still wearing his coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I don't know how many chapters this will end up being, but I have a general sense of where it's headed, so look for an update next week!


	2. you come around and the armor falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen can't quite let Frank go, and he doesn't quite want her to, if the little gifts he keeps sending her are any indication.

She wasn’t proud of it, but Karen wore his coat all night and left it in her bed for days afterwards. Every time she got into bed, she wondered what might have happened if things were different. What it would be like to have Frank Castle in her apartment again. What it would be like to have him in her bed.

For now, though, she had to settle for breathing in his scent and letting it wrap around her like his arms had when she hugged him. She knew it was more than a little pathetic, but it made her feel less alone. With Matt gone, and Foggy so busy at his fancy law firm, she didn’t have many people in her life who she could trust. She knew Foggy would be there if she needed him, but it would be ridiculous to call him when she was fine, really. She wasn’t in danger, she wasn’t sick. She was just very, very lonely.

And now that she knew for sure that Frank was alive, it was like an itch under her skin that she couldn’t scratch. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he still watching her? Or had he left her for real this time, in the name of her finding someone “better”?

She found herself staring into shadowy corners when she walked down the street, but he was never there. He was like a ghost, haunting her waking life as much as her dreams. There were a few times she got that familiar prickle on the back of her neck, but when Frank didn’t want to be seen, he was good at staying hidden. She wasn’t going to find him until he wanted to be found.

She wondered if he would ever let her find him again.

Things went on like that for a week. His coat didn’t really smell like him anymore, but Karen still kept it, draping over one of her kitchen chairs. When she looked up from her laptop, in the middle of researching a story, she could almost imagine he was still there, just out of sight. Except that he wasn’t.

Then, one night when she came home from work, there was a bouquet of flowers on the fire escape. She could see the blooms spilling over the edge of the windowsill. Little blue forget-me-nots, all wrapped together in twine.

She slid the window open and pulled the flowers inside, setting them on the rickety old table by the window. There was a little, cream-colored card sticking out of the bouquet and she pulled it out, familiar scrawl smudged across the paper.

“Let me go. I’m okay. You’re okay. Just let me go.”

It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be. She folded it again and felt a familiar surge of fiery rage coursing through her. She glanced at the chair and saw that his coat was still there. She knew he could have broken in if he had wanted to. He’d done it before, after all. Was he really that finished with her that he didn’t even care if she kept something of his? He didn’t even want to see her?

She felt hot tears tracing down her cheeks and wiped them away. “Fuck you, Frank,” she whispered to her empty apartment. She reached for the flowers and considered throwing them into the garbage once and for all, but she just couldn’t quite do it.

Instead, she cut them and put them in a vase, and the flowers stayed where they were until all the petals had fallen off and littered her floor and table with their delicate shapes. When the last one fell, she finally gave in and threw them away, trying not to think about what that meant. Everything didn’t have to be symbolic.

The next day, another arrangement appeared on the fire escape and she felt her chest tighten painfully at the sight of the overflowing bouquet of daisies. She still put it on the table and left it there until all the flowers had wilted and died. And another appeared in its place after she threw it away.

Every time she threw a bouquet away, another appeared to replace it. Pink roses, more white roses, violets, even a gorgeous collection of the most vibrant peonies she had ever seen. Finally, she got so frustrated she had to do something.

After throwing away the most recent arrangement, she pulled out the card from that very first one. She had kept it in a drawer by her bed, even after she had Frank’s coat into the back of her closet to force herself to forget about him. As if she could, with those damn flowers around all the time.

Scribbling madly on the paper, she gritted back a sob and made sure Frank would know exactly how she felt about this game he was playing.

The next day, there were no flowers. Instead, when she got home from an interview, there was Frank, sitting on her couch like he belonged there. Karen hated to admit it, but maybe he did.

He was pretending not to look through her notes and files, which were strewn across the coffee table and the floor. Her latest story was a complex one, involving a string of rapes and murders that were thus far unsolved. She had written a few stories about the individual crimes, but she could just feel that they were connected somehow. Frank’s brow was furrowed as he stared at one of the crime scene photos, but Karen was so furious with him at this point, she didn’t even care what he was thinking about.

“How dare you?” she said, and he looked up, looking like a wild animal caught in a trap. “How dare you come here after all this?”

“Karen,” he said quietly, and she stilled. His voice fried all her nerves, raspy and growling, like he hadn’t slept in a week. And maybe he hadn’t.

“Frank.” She folded her arms over her chest and waited for him to explain himself. He always did.

“I thought you’d like the flowers,” he said quietly, and she forced herself to stand up straighter, not melt like she wanted to. “I didn’t want you think I would just leave you.”

“But you did leave me, Frank,” she said, gripping her arms so hard she could feel her fingernails digging into her skin. “You left me, but you wouldn’t quite leave. You said you wanted me to let you go, but how can I do that with these flowers showing up and reminding me of you?” She didn’t say that she didn’t want to let him go, but she wished she had. The look on his face was so pained, she wished she could rewind the conversation and take it back before she could hurt him like that.

“You’re right,” he mumbled. “But I just wanted you to know I was okay. Like you said.”

Karen groaned, running a hand through her hair. “Make up your mind, Frank. Be here or don’t be. You’re not the Punisher anymore. You told me you were done. I don’t have to worry you’re out getting yourself killed every night. And you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to be too close to me.”

He considered her carefully, eyes dark as they studied her face. “I can’t give you what you deserve. We both know that.”

“Why don’t I get to decide what I deserve? What I want? Why is that up to you?”

His eyes widened, and she held her breath, waiting for his latest excuse why he wasn’t good enough for her, why she needed to stay away from him, but it didn’t come. Instead, he lunged at her, pulling her to the ground like he had way back when she didn’t know if she could trust him. When she had almost shot him, but didn’t. When he saved her life, the first time.

He covered her body with his as bullets pierced the windows and sent shards of glass all over the room. His arms shielded her head and she could feel their hearts racing together while they waited for the shooting to stop.

“We have to get out of here,” he hissed in her ear as the last bullet slammed into the wall behind them.

“Yeah,” she breathed, letting him pull her to her feet roughly and drag her towards the door. He growled in frustration when she pulled away from him to gather her research, but she didn’t want whoever was shooting at them to see what she actually knew about them if they decided to come in and investigate. If Frank could get in, so could other people. She pushed the papers into her bag and threw it over her shoulder to follow Frank out of the building.

She stumbled after him, ears ringing and feet throbbing in her high heels while the raced down the stairs and up the street to a beat-up black car she had never seen before.

“Is this yours?” she asked, and he grunted.

She didn’t know where he was taking her, but she trusted Frank. She could almost hear Matt’s voice in her head, warning her not to trust him like she did, but she couldn’t help it. He would burn the world to the ground if he had to, just to keep her safe. She didn’t want that, but there was something slightly comforting in knowing that the Punisher had her back.

Not that she thought of him as the Punisher anymore. Long before he told her he was done, he had been Frank. Just Frank. Her vigilante friend who loved dogs and guns and coffee and beating the shit out of scumbags. A man who had saved her life on more than one occasion, and pushed her away when she got close enough to hurt him. A man who had loved his family so much he couldn’t rest until he put everyone who had anything to do with their deaths in the ground.

She looked over at him, wondering for the millionth time what he had been like before all of this had happened. What he had been like when he was with Maria. With his kids. Did he bring flowers home, just to make Maria happy?

Shaking the thought out of her head, she looked down at her hands and saw that her hands were trembling. Spring was starting to push winter away, and it was getting warmer every day. Soon it would be summer and they would be wishing for the chill of winter to take away the sticky, humid, heat of a New York City summer.

“You okay?” Frank said, voice harsh in the stifling quiet of the car. She nodded, clasping her hands together to stop them from shaking. She stared out the window and watched the lights of the city flash by.

She didn’t know when they would stop, but they had a conversation to finish when they did. Frank’s eyes were focused on the road ahead of them, and all she could do was look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you for reading! This story has started taking some turns I didn't expect, but I'm trying to get the next chapter out over the weekend. I hope you enjoyed it!


	3. i know places we won't be found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank brings Karen to the safest place in the city, but for how long?

Karen tried to pay attention to the turns Frank took, but he was busy trying to lose anyone following them, so she didn’t stand a chance. She saw streetlights flashing by, and caught sight of a few signs as she leaned against the window.

“Where are we?” she said quietly, pushing her hair out of her face. Frank glanced at her, eyes raking over her face, before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Somewhere safer.”

She nodded. “Who did this?”

“Those shitbags you’re investigating, probably.”

She blinked at him. “You think?” she said.

He shrugged, like it was a stupid question. It probably was, now that she thought about it. She hadn’t really pissed anyone off recently, but maybe she was digging too deep into something someone didn’t want her to see.

Karen rested her head on her hand, staring out at the deepening darkness, branches overhanging the road like reaching fingers. Whoever had done this, had meant to scare her, if not to kill her. And it had worked, except that she was with Frank, and she couldn’t feel afraid when she was with Frank. Maybe she should, but she didn’t.

He finally stopped at a rundown building. It didn’t look like much, but she had a feeling it was something like Frank: more than it seemed.

He opened the door to a tiny apartment. She had thought her apartment was small, but this was little more than a shoebox. Or a cell. It was small, but impeccably clean, a lumpy-looking bed in the corner and a tiny stove and refrigerator by the door. The light on the ceiling flickered before shining steadily, glinting off the gun collection scattered around the room. Karen sank down onto a chair at the wobbly table, suddenly exhausted. Her hands were trembling again as she put them to her face.

“Hey, hey,” Frank said, crouching in front of her. He took her hands and all she could focus on was the warmth of Frank’s hands in hers. “You’re okay. This place is safe. I promise you, this place is safe.”

“I know,” she said, voice shaking slightly. “I know.” What she meant was, “I know I’m safe here, with you.”

She didn’t say that, though. Frank squeezed her hands once and let them go. Standing, he moved over to the fridge, which creaked when he opened the door. “Not much in here, but I can heat up some soup if you’re hungry.”

Karen thought she might cry, so she ducked her head and slipped out of her shoes. “Not very hungry,” she said, and he nodded.

“Tired? You can sleep, if you want.” He jerked his head towards the bed.

She smiled weakly at him and shook her head. “I don’t think I could sleep.”

He paced over to the window and peered out at the darkness, nodding again. She watched him circle the tiny room and knew he was checking every entry point, every area of weakness that might let someone get in.

“Why do you always go after the big fish?” he asked her, so quietly she wasn’t sure he had meant to say it out loud. He sat down across from her and folded his hands on the scratched surface of the table. She saw his fingers twitching against each other, tapping out a little rhythm on his knuckles.

“Small fish just aren’t as fun to catch,” she said, relaxing a little. “You know me, I like to figure things out. Can’t stop digging.”

“Even when you should.”

“Especially when I should.” He smiled at that, flashing her that surprised little half-grin that sometimes got shocked onto his face.

“Lucky for me, that’s probably true.” The smile faded from his face. “But you’re going to get hurt.”

“Come on, Frank. You can’t really be telling me you think I shouldn’t dig into this. Whatever’s happening, someone has to stop it. Why shouldn’t it be me?”

She was about to say more, but she was distracted by Frank taking off his coat. A dark red stain had spread through his t-shirt, sticking it to his chest. The black dye was faded, so the blood was clear in the dim light.

“Frank,” she breathed. “You’re hurt.”

“Just a little cut from the glass,” he said, shaking his head and touching the wound. His fingers came away slightly red. “I’ll be alright.”

“We should clean it, at least, and get the glass out of it.” She stood and crouched beside him, fingers shaking as she reached out to him. He flinched away from her and pushed his chair back. She nearly fell into him, toppling over in her heels, but his hands shot out to steady her. He set her back on her feet and stood to turn away from her.

“You should get some sleep,” he said gruffly. He went over to a cabinet and pulled out a small first aid kit and a bottle of vodka.

“I told you,” she said, standing and brushing off her skirt. “I’m not going to sleep.”

Frank stilled, hand clutched around the little white box. Karen pulled it from his hand and he sank back down into the chair. She knew he had let her win. There was no way she could take anything from him that he didn’t want to give.

“Shirt off,” she said, and he complied, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Karen swallowed, focusing her gaze on the thin red slice on the side of his ribcage. It had almost stopped bleeding, and it was far from the worst injury she had seen on him, but she couldn’t quite keep her hands from shaking as she poured the vodka over it to clean it. She hated that he had gotten hurt because of her. Again.

Frank hissed and clenched his fists, but didn’t flinch. Karen put down the bottle and picked up the tweezers to pull out the little shards of glass from his skin. She poured a little more vodka over the metal and got to work. She focused on closing the ends of the tweezers around the ragged edges and dragging them out. She tried to ignore the way Frank tensed under her fingers with each piece.

When she was fairly sure she had gotten them all out, she picked up the bottle again and dribbled more vodka over the wound. While she unwound the roll of gauze from the kit, Frank took a long swig from the vodka bottle. Taking a deep breath, she unrolled the cloth against his skin, feeling his pulse under her fingers. She trimmed the gauze and taped it down, smoothing the ends and turned away to wash her hands.

“Thank you, Karen,” Frank said softly. She rested her hands on the edge of the sink, hair falling to shield her face. The soft rustle of fabric told her he was putting his shirt back on, bloodstain and all.

“Frank,” she said. She felt him behind her, those brown eyes boring straight through her. “I’m sorry.”

“Karen,” he murmured. She felt the tips of his fingers trailing through the ends of her hair so gently she wasn’t sure if she was just imagining it. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

She shook her head. “In the morning, then.”

“Get some sleep.” It wasn’t suggestion or avoidance now, just genuine concern for her wellbeing. Tears welled in her eyes again, but she hid them as best she could. She nodded and moved towards the bed, pulling the quilt over herself, still fully clothed. It wasn’t like she had any other clothes with her anyway.

She closed her eyes, trying to force herself to sleep, when she heard her phone buzzing from across the room.

Groaning, she sat up. Frank had heard it too, because of course he had, and he was already bringing her bag over to her before she could climb out from under the surprisingly warm blanket.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, pushing her hair out of her eyes to see who was contacting her. It was Foggy. He had called four times and sent seven texts. Ellison had sent three. Karen sighed and called Foggy back.

“Karen!” Foggy’s voice was strained, and Karen immediately felt terrible for making him worry.

“Foggy, I’m okay.”

Frank cleared his throat and nodded towards the door. He headed outside, leaving Karen alone to calm down her frantic friend.

“Where are you? I heard there was a shooting in your neighborhood and then I went by to see if you were okay and you were gone and your apartment was blown to pieces. Again!”

“I know. I’m sorry. It all happened kind of fast.”

“I told you, you shouldn’t be messing around with this crime spree. You’re going to get hurt.”

“You sound like Frank. Or Matt.” She knew it was kind of a low blow to mention Matt, but she was getting a little tired of all these men in her life telling her to just sit at home and let terrible things happen without doing anything about them.

“Frank?” Foggy said, and she could almost see his eyebrows shooting up. “You’re with Frank Castle?”

“He had a safe place to bring me, so we’re there.”

“You’re in an undisclosed location with the Punisher and you’re trying to tell me you’re safe?”

“Foggy,” she groaned. Sometimes she forgot that other people, even other people she loved and cared about, didn’t know Frank like she did. “Listen, I’m okay. I’ll let you know when I’m back in my apartment.”

“Text me tomorrow so I know you’re still alive.”

“Fine. Bye, Foggy.”

“I just care about you, Karen. Talk to you tomorrow.”

She dashed off a text to Ellison too, telling him she was fine, but she would be working remotely for the next few days.

Feeling too wound up to sleep, Karen pushed herself back up against the wall and pulled out the folder with the most recent murder in the warehouses Fisk had once owned. It seemed like a pretty straightforward addict-on-addict killing for drugs or money, but there was something off about it. It was too clean, too professional. The drugs were a cover for something, but what?

She groaned again and pushed the folder away, mind whirring, just as Frank came back inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft snap.

“How’s the lawyer?” he grunted.

“He’s fine. And now he knows I’m fine, so that’s good. I should have called him. I just didn’t think.”

“Good. Nice to have people care about what happens to you.” Frank’s eyes were so dark, it was like looking into two deep tunnels.

“Glad you see it that way,” she said gently. He looked away, but she saw a ghost of a smile cross his face before he could hide it.

“You going to sleep, or work yourself to death?”

“Sleep, I think,” she said, pushing the papers back into the folder and putting it back into her bag. She dropped it beside the bed and pulled out her spare charger. If she didn’t text Foggy like she had promised, he might just go to the cops, and she couldn’t have that. Not right now. She knew she shouldn’t have told him she was with Frank, but she didn’t want to lie. She was tired of all the lies that swirled around her all the time.

“You okay there, ma’am?” Frank said, and Karen realized he was much closer to her than she had thought.

“Yeah, just thinking.”  
“I can see that. Can almost see those wheels turning in your head.” He was doing that thing he did where he made her feel like he could see straight through her. His hand twitched like he wanted to touch her, but he just clenched it into a fist and turned away. “You need to rest. It was a long day. I checked outside. No one followed us. No one knows you’re here.”

Karen nodded, sliding back down under the warm quilt while Frank sat back down at the table. She felt her eyes closing again and stopped fighting sleep. It came easier than she thought it would, even with all the thoughts that had been racing through her mind just moments earlier. Something about Frank’s presence calmed her in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

That was something she would have to figure out later though, as she fell into dreams of gunfire and the warm heat of a body pressing her into the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I don't know when the next chapter will be up, with the holidays and everything, but I'm going to try for at least one more before I go on holiday break. Enjoy!


	4. you did a number on me, but honestly, baby, who’s counting?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen and Frank finally have the conversation they've been putting off.

Karen woke up periodically during the night, hearing taps and creaks that startled her awake. Every time she woke up, she saw Frank’s silhouette in the chair by the window and her nerves relaxed until she fell back to sleep.

Even so, she didn’t feel especially rested when she woke in the morning to see light streaming through the cloudy windows of Frank’s apartment. Her eyes flashed automatically to the chair where he had been sitting, but it was empty.

Karen’s heart stuttered in her chest. It wasn’t a very big room, and Frank was very much not there. She sat up, reaching for her phone to see that Ellison had approved her break and Foggy had texted to reiterate that he was glad she was safe, but he wanted to hear from her. Nothing from Frank.

She typed out a text to Foggy, trying to slow her breathing and calm down. Frank wouldn’t leave her. Not after he had taken all this trouble to get her here.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Frank walked quietly through the door, footsteps soft on the creaky floor. He looked over at her and seemed surprised that she was awake.

“You okay?”

Karen nodded. “Yeah. Just woke up.” She didn’t ask where he had been.

“Just needed to get some food, if we’re going to be holing up for a while.” He held up a couple of grocery bags before setting them on the little table. “Wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got all different stuff.”

She watched him unpack the strangest load of groceries she might have ever seen. He had bought bananas, apples, yogurt, snack cupcakes, cereal, milk, lunch meat, sour candies, frozen pizza, a block of cheese, greens that looked like kale, and ginger snap cookies. At the sight of the cookies, Karen’s heart tightened uncomfortably in her chest.

Frank cleared his throat and started putting things away, but the unspoken acknowledgement of the cookies made the already small apartment feel unbearably cramped. Karen tried to breathe normally, but it was like the air had been squeezed out of the room and into that little cardboard box.

“Frank,” she choked out. He stilled, hand clutching the chipped handle on the fridge door. He took a deep breath and turned to look at her, eyes darting from her to the door to the window and back again as he settled into his usual military stance. “We have to talk about this.”

He sniffed. “About what, Karen?” His voice was so strained, so tired, it was like she was back in that hospital room with him all over again.

 “This,” she said, gesturing between them as she sank down onto the bed. “Us.”

Frank sighed, running a hand over his hair. “We have talked about this.”  
“Then why am I here, Frank?”

He blinked at her and took a step back. If she had pushed him, she couldn’t have made him stagger like that.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why did you bring me here? Why did you send me the flowers? Why are you always looking out for me if you don’t want to be near me?” Karen was on a roll now, forcing herself to ignore the hurt in Frank’s dark eyes as the words poured out of her. She had needed to do this for a while now. “Why do you keep coming back if you really don’t want this?”

Frank’s eyes flashed now, and she caught a glimpse of the vigilante that had terrified Hell’s Kitchen for all those months.

“Why did I bring you here?” he thundered, starting to pace. “Your apartment got shot up, because you can’t keep your nose out of organized crime, and you ask me why I brought you here? Seriously, Karen?”

“Seriously, Frank?” she shot back. She stood again, feeling too vulnerable sitting down when he was getting riled like this.

“I care about you!” he shouted. “There. Happy? I want you to be safe.” He calmed a little, voice low and dangerous. “You’re important to me.”

“But you don’t want to be near me? Just watch from the shadows and check in every so often. Just to throw me off balance again and then leave?”

She could almost hear him grinding his teeth while he thought through his answer. “So, what? Once I find these guys and get rid of them, what, I’m supposed to just leave?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” Karen said quietly. She chose to ignore the part about Frank going after these guys. He had said he was done, and he wasn’t getting back in because of her.

Frank stepped towards her, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You think I want to leave? That I want to be anywhere else but here with you?”

It was Karen’s turn to blink at him. “What?”

“You think that I _want_ to leave when I do? You think I do that for _me_?”

He was so close to her now, she could feel the furious heat pouring off his body. He wasn’t glancing around anymore, either. His eyes were like a magnet, drawing her in and making her forget what she was so angry about.

“What do you want from me, Frank?” Her voice was little more than a whisper now. If she had been struggling to breathe before, now he might as well be suffocating her one word at a time.

“It’s not about what I want,” he said, voice rumbling through the space between them. “It’s about what you need. What you deserve.”

“Why do you think you know what I deserve?” Her mind raced with images of Wesley, slumped over in a chair, with seven bullets in his chest. She hadn’t told Frank. She hadn’t told anyone. She somehow didn’t think it would change anything for Frank if she told him, and this wasn’t the time.

He shook his head, gruff smile flashing across his face. “Because I know you, Karen. I know how smart, how kind, how _good_ you are.”

“You don’t know everything about me.”

“Not your first rodeo, huh?” He considered her carefully, but shook his head. “Doesn’t mean you should settle for this.” He waved a hand at the tiny apartment, but all she could see was him. His eyes, his jaw, his lips.

“I’m not,” she breathed. “I’m not settling for anything. Not with you.”

He just stared at her. He shook his head almost imperceptibly and inclined his head towards her a fraction of an inch. She felt his warm breath tickling her face and shivered, sparks racing up and down her spine. One of Frank’s hands came up to cradle her face and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes.

They stayed like that for a moment, breathing each other in, and Karen’s eyes fluttered open again to find Frank staring at her with a fire in his eyes that scared her more than the rage that had exploded just minutes earlier. His other hand clutched at her waist and their lips crashed together.

Like everything with them, it was a little rough, a little too hard at first, but Karen was surprised at how quickly Frank found gentleness with her. He kissed her over and over again, tongue finally pressing past her lips to tangle with hers. Karen’s arms circled around his neck and he pulled her against him. She could feel his muscular chest against hers and heard their hearts pounding together as they fought to breathe without breaking apart.

It was like a tornado. Or a hurricane. Whatever it was, it blew Karen Page to pieces and she didn’t know if she would ever be able to put herself back together. At this point, she wasn’t sure if she cared.

Frank’s hand tangled in her hair and Karen gasped at the delicious pull. He stilled, pulling away from her for a moment.

“Did I hurt you?”

Smirking, Karen shook her head. “I’m not as fragile as you think.”

Frank nodded, and a genuine smile spread on his face. “That’s for sure. Thought you might take my head off before.”

“Glad I didn’t,” she murmured, letting her fingertips trail over his shaved head. He shuddered and closed his eyes, nearly purring in pleasure.

He leaned in to kiss her again, to let them live in this sensation, this peace, for another moment.

But it was not to be. Frank’s phone started buzzing in his pocket and he groaned, resting his forehead against hers and dropping a gentle kiss to her cheek before pulling the offending device out of his pocket and putting it to his ear.

“You’re sure?” he grunted, turning away from Karen. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to find some semblance of privacy or if he just couldn’t look at her right now, after what had just happened. “Okay. I’ll be there. Thanks.”

Karen’s eyebrows shot up and Frank’s face was a mask when he turned back to her.

“Going somewhere?” she said.

“Got a lead on your guys,” he said, moving toward the duffel bag where he had stashed his guns since the previous night.

“Wait,” Karen said, watching as he started to load guns and strap them to his body, along with his skull-emblazoned armor. “You’re not really getting back into this.”

Frank stared at her, practiced hands putting bullets into a gun without even looking at it. “It’s too late for that.”

“You told me you were done. You weren’t going to do this anymore.”

“That was before.”

“Frank,” she said, voice cracking slightly. “You don’t have to do this.”

He put down the gun in his hand and came back over to her, hands out to reach for her. “Karen.” He took her hands, which were trembling again. “Yes, I do. These shitbags can’t come after you and get no consequences for it.”

“But it doesn’t have to be you that does it.”

“Why shouldn’t it be me?” A fierce grin snarled onto his face. “Isn’t that what you said?”

She glared at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t throw that back at me. It’s different, what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, because what you’re doing is just pissing them off. What I’m going to do will stop them from shooting at you.”

Karen sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not going to stop you, am I?”

Frank shook his head, chuckling. “No more than I’m going to stop you.”

“Be careful,” she whispered, feeling guilty for giving in so easily, but knowing that fighting with him wasn’t going to change anything.

“Stay here.”

And he was gone again, but this time, she wasn’t nearly so confident that he would come back. She stared at the door for a long time, wishing she knew what to say to get through to him. Maybe there wasn’t anything to say.

Maybe this was just who he was. Who they were. And she was going to have to cope with it, because she wasn’t getting out now. She couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you for reading! This story continues to take turns I didn't expect, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll be back with an update in January!


	5. there were sirens in the beat of your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Frank is gone, Karen gets tangled further in the web she is trying to unravel.

The room felt smaller with Frank gone. More claustrophobic. Even in her panic at his absence in the morning, it hadn’t felt nearly so final. She knew then that he was coming back. She couldn’t be so sure of it now.

Instead of making herself crazy, wondering if he would be back, when he might come back, what shape he would be in the next time she saw him, she pulled out her laptop and research and combed back through the files to see what she could come up with. She spread the pictures out on the floor while she flipped through the interviews and witness statements she had gotten her hands on.

She was reading through the third account of an unsolved murder in an alley when a phrase struck her as odd.

“Victim missing ring finger from right hand.”

Pulling out the previous two murder files, she noticed that the other victims were missing fingers. Different fingers, but still missing fingers. Odd, for a random act of violence between drug addicts, which was the story the police were selling to the media.

Karen put a hand over her mouth, starting to piece together what might be going on. She shuffled through the other papers and noticed that all of the victims, of murder, rape, assault, all of them were missing some part of their bodies. Toes, ears, even fingernails. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and tried to think about how to tie this to something bigger. A serial killer was one thing, but if it was just one guy, her apartment probably wouldn’t have been shot up.

No, this was something much bigger than one man. What, she didn’t yet know, but she was going to keep digging until she figured it out.

She started typing out some notes, trying to link together all the crimes and trace them back to something bigger. The Russians, maybe? Irish?

After hours of pulling at threads with no luck, she groaned and pushed her laptop away. Papers fluttered down to the floor to cover the crime scene photos. She stretched and heard her spine popping after all that time hunched over the computer.

Glancing at her phone and then at the window, she saw that the sun was going down. She had a feeling Frank wouldn’t be back for a while. He didn’t usually “work” during the daylight hours, so she probably wouldn’t see him until much later.

It wasn’t like he had a TV or anything, either, so Karen tried to occupy herself with some stupid game on her phone, but that wasn’t working. Her mind was filled with images of Frank bleeding out on some grimy dock or in the corner of an abandoned warehouse, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong.

She settled down onto the bed and opened one of the dogeared novels Frank had lying around. She was impressed with the selection of classic books he had in his apartment. It wasn’t that she ever thought he was stupid. Far from it. But she was surprised that he was reading _Moby Dick_ and F. Scott Fitzgerald in his spare time. She wondered what his favorite book was. She would have to ask him when he got back.

“If he gets back,” she whispered to the empty room. She shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. He always made it back. While she was talking herself out of the worst case scenario, her stomach interrupted with a gigantic growl. So much had happened, but she hadn’t even noticed that she needed to eat.

She stood and tried to find something to eat among the groceries Frank had bought for her. The only thing that caught her eye were those damn ginger snaps. If she had ever had a time she needed to escape, this was it.

The crunch of the cookie took her back to her childhood and she could almost feel the chilly winter air leaking through the old windows at her parents’ house in Vermont. She wrapped herself up in Frank’s blanket and ate half the box before she knew what she was doing.

She let her mind wander, keeping it safely away from thoughts of Frank, as much as she could. She thought of looking at her phone to see what time it was, but she was comfortable and it was exhausting, worrying about Frank like this again. She was out of practice, and she hated that he was out there now. Vigilantes were going to be the death of her, in more ways than one.

Her eyelids started to droop, but she woke abruptly when she heard a creak by the door. For a moment, she looked for Frank, but when she saw the paper by the door, her heart dropped into her stomach. She threw off the blanket and scrambled for it, crumpling the edge by mistake.

It was a heavy, cream-colored paper, but the writing on it was so scrawled it was hard to read.

“Come outside immediately. There is a van waiting for you. If you don’t, we will take you by force.” she mumbled to herself as she deciphered the handwriting. Her eyes automatically traveled to the duffel bag in the corner. She knew Frank hadn’t taken all his guns with him, but whoever was sending her this message probably knew that too. They obviously knew Frank wasn’t there with her. Would they expect her to come quietly, or did they know she was ready to defend herself?

She took a deep breath and made her decision. She carefully collected all her documents from where they were strewn on the floor and stacked all the files she had on the table and replacing them in her bag with a .380 like the one she had used the last time she was in a situation like this. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and she tried desperately to slow her pounding heart.

Clutching her bag to her body, she unbolted the door, realizing too late that she didn’t have a key to lock it behind her. She moved carefully down the stairs, spotting the black van through the cracked window before she went outside. She breathed slowly and stepped through the door. As soon as she did, a hooded man stepped out of the van.

“Inside now, Ms. Page.” His voice sounded oddly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. She did as he said and got into the windowless van, reminding herself that Frank wouldn’t stop looking for her once he knew she was gone.

Assuming he was still alive and unharmed, that is.

* * *

 

She wasn’t sure how long they were in the van, but it was just the driver and a single armed guard, neither of whom checked her bag for a weapon. Apparently, they thought she was just a simple reporter and didn’t see her as a threat. She would count that as a win.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they came to a stop and Karen was roughly blindfolded and escorted from the van by the guard. She stumbled and felt the man’s hand tighten harshly on her arm, just inches from her hidden pistol. She was definitely going to have bruises, but at this point, that didn’t sound so bad.

She was thrown into a metal chair and her arms and legs were bound to it. She heard footsteps scuffing on the floor near her and forced herself not to move. She wasn’t going to give them the pleasure of knowing how scared she actually was.

“Ms. Page,” that voice said again, as the man untied the blindfold from behind her head. She blinked, adjusting to the light, and looked around to see a semicircle of men surrounding her. Each one had a large gun, pointed at the ground. Each one had a mask or scarf over his face, and she tried to keep her expression calm as they all stared impassively at her.

“What do you want with me?” she asked, voice quavering only slightly.

“You’ve been poking around where you don’t belong,” the man said. “Drawing attention to things nobody needs to know about.”

“So, what do you want with me?” she asked again, raising an eyebrow.

The man laughed. “You know, they told me you had some fight in you. Didn’t see it at the bar, but here it is.”

Karen stared at him. “The bar?”

“You didn’t really think it was a blind date, did you?” He peeled off his mask and grinned at her.

“Jimmy?” she breathed, mind racing as she tried to piece together what was happening.

“You can call me Barracuda,” he said, smirk widening. “Now, for what we’re really here for.” He pulled out a pair of pliers and an unpleasant-looking knife.

Karen felt sweat breaking out on her forehead and tried to force herself to remain calm. “You’re not really going to kill me, are you?” she asked, trying to sound like she was just asking about the weather. “You know there are people who will miss me.”

“Who? Your little lawyer buddy? Your editor? The Punisher?” She didn’t think it was possible for him to smile any bigger. He looked like a wolf, all pointed teeth and predatory eyes. He started to pace in front of her, adjusting his grip on his tools of choice. “Forgive me if I’m not exactly shaking in my boots. He left you alone in that shithole apartment for us to find, didn’t he?”

She swallowed, holding her head high. “He will never stop hunting you.”

“He can’t hunt us if he can’t find us,” he said cheerily. “But before we get to all that, where are your notes?”

He glanced at the bag she still clutched in one hand, and Karen knew she had to distract him or he would find her gun. Then it would really all be over.

“I left them behind.”

“Didn’t want us seeing what you had on us, huh, Page?”

She nodded, shaking back her hair. “Something like that.”

“Go back and get them,” he said to one of the men in the circle. The man nodded, and the others filled in the space he left behind. “See? Was that so hard?”

Karen shook her head. She thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye and heard the thud of a body hitting the floor, but she focused her gaze on Jimmy, _Barracuda_. He was pacing again.

“But, unfortunately, we can’t just let you go. No guarantee you won’t come after us again.”

“I understand.”

He looked startled at her response. “Not going to beg for your life?”

She shook her head again, smiling now to herself. “No need.”

He blinked at her, and then the gunfire started. Karen ducked her head, closing her eyes against the chaos that erupted in the room. Barracuda grabbed her chair and pulled her against his body, gun to her chin, while the rest of his men dropped to Frank’s bullets.

“Cease fire or she dies,” Barracuda bellowed, and the shots stopped. Heavy footsteps thudded into the room and Karen saw the skull on his armor before she saw his face, which was bloody again. Fury lit his dark eyes so they glittered in the fluorescent lights.

“Let her go,” he growled, taking another step towards them.

Barracuda backed up, tightening his grip on Karen until she struggled to breathe. “Or what? You’ll shoot me?” He laughed. “No. I don’t think so. We’ll be going now, and if you follow us, poor Ms. Page will be short a head _and_ a finger.”

Frank met her eyes and she did her best to nod at him. She understood.

She understood, but she still had to face being dragged backwards by Barracuda through a set of metal doors, Frank disappearing before her eyes.

“Now, it’s time for some real fun,” her captor hissed in her ear. Karen clutched her bag tighter and prepared herself for whatever that meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised an update after the New Year, and here it is! A little shorter than I had planned, but I needed to get Karen into some trouble and I didn't want to resolve it just yet. I also know that Barracuda isn't really a torturer in the comics, but I thought it would be an interesting wrinkle here to add in a villain from the comics for Frank to fight.
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, and I'm pretty sure there will just be one or two more chapters after this one, depending how things unfold, plot-wise.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and if you want to yell about Punisher and Kastle with me on Tumblr, you can find me [here](http://mostlyactorsandfood.tumblr.com/).


	6. we were built to fall apart, then fall back together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barracuda has plans for Karen. He just doesn't plan for Frank.

Barracuda cut her free from the chair once they were out of sight, but he kept an arm around her neck and a gun to her temple to keep her under control. She had somehow managed to keep her bag in her hand all this time, but with how things were going, she wasn’t sure if she was ever going to be able to use it.

He threw her into the back of the van, and Karen felt her head hit the metal door before the world faded in front of her eyes.

When she came back to consciousness, she was still in the van. She could feel every bump in the road. As she sat up, she saw Barracuda glance back at her, but she just curled against the door and tried to keep her breathing calm. Her head throbbed where she had hit it and she blinked away the dizziness.

Frank would come for her. He always did. She hated that he felt like he had to, but he always did. It was only a matter of time.

Even as the thoughts came to her, the van rolled to a stop. She could hear gravel crunching under the tires and gathered all her nerve to find a way out of this.

“I don’t think your friend will be able to track us all the way out here,” Barracuda growled, dragging her out of the car. Karen stared up at budding trees and saw a tiny building a few hundred yards away. “Walk.”

She could feel the steel of the gun against her shoulder blades, his hand gripping her upper arm, and clutched her bag tighter as she trudged through the piles of dead leaves that littered the forest floor.

The shack they were approaching looked uncomfortably like the one in the woods where she had confronted Frank. Where she had told him, he was dead to her. Where he had told her, he was already dead. Shivering, Karen squared her shoulders and kept moving. She tried to focus on coming up with a plan to get herself away from this guy.

For now, though, she let him push her towards the building. He flicked on a sickly yellow lightbulb and gestured to her to sit in the chair in the middle of the room. There were unpleasant brown stains on the floor and Karen fought down the urge to vomit. She had seen blood before. Hell, she had drawn blood before. No reason to get squeamish now.

“Not an easy one to take down, are you, Ms. Page?”

She shook back her hair and shrugged. “Guess not.”

“Too bad there’s no one here to help you now.”

She looked down at her unbound hands and glanced back up to see Barracuda turning away, gathering his tools.

“I think I’ll send you back to the city piece by piece,” he muttered, and she saw the glint of the metal he planned to use on her.

She was never going to have a better chance, and she forced down all thoughts of Wesley and how he hadn’t expected her to be a threat either. She could still almost see his smug face turning to shock when she let the first bullet fly.

Her hand closed around the cool metal of the pistol and she drew it out slowly, trying not to catch her captor’s attention. She let her bag fall to the floor and the thump made Barracuda whirl around.

His eyes narrowed when he saw the gun in her hand, and she was surprised to see a smirk spread across his face.

“Now, Karen. Where on earth did you get that?” He stepped closer and she put both hands on the gun to hold it steady.

“Don’t come any closer.” She swallowed, trying to still the shaking in her voice.

“Or what? You planning to shoot me?” He laughed at that, and it was like she was staring down Wesley all over again. “You really think you could kill a man?”

“You really think I haven’t?” she snarled, standing now to look him in the eye.

The grin widened, and Karen’s finger twitched on the trigger. He held up the knife and took another step towards her.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” he hissed, and Karen saw red. She squeezed the trigger and watched him stagger backwards, blood pouring from the hole in his shoulder.

He roared and lunged at her, knocking the gun away before she could use it again. He tackled her to the floor, body weight pushing all the air out of her lungs. He grabbed at her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. She struggled wildly, screaming at him to get off her.

He smiled still wider, knife in his other hand. “Let’s see how many pieces we can get out of you,” he said, raising the blade. She could feel the heat of his blood as it dripped onto her chest.

Karen closed her eyes, tensing for the first touch of the knife, wincing at the searing pain when it sliced through her blouse and into her ribcage. He traced the tip of the blade up to her collarbone, like he was drawing some kind of twisted design. She bit back a scream, but from the look of sheer pleasure on Barracuda’s face, he knew how much it hurt.

And then, just as soon as it had started, it ended, with a crash of breaking glass and the thud of a bullet. He slumped against her, a hole where the side of his head used to be.

Karen struggled to push his body off her, but finally managed it, rolling him to the side with a soft thud. She groaned at the ache of the effort, and looked down, shaking fingers coming away red when she pressed them to her side. She focused on breathing, but she could hear her heart beating hard, and she wondered how much blood it was pushing out of her every second.

The edges of her vision were growing dim when the door to the shack opened. She blinked up at the newcomer, eyes not quite able to focus anymore.

“Karen,” a familiar voice growled. “Karen, look at me, sweetheart. Eyes on me.”

She felt her eyelids drooping and struggled to stay awake. Frank wouldn’t tell her to do something if it wasn't important.

“Frank,” she breathed, reaching out for him. It was like he was at the end of a long tunnel, and she couldn’t quite reach. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, hard enough that she could focus on that. Come back from the end of the tunnel.

“There’s my girl,” he mumbled, his other hand coming up to cradle her face. “Stay with me, honey. I’m going to get you out of here.”

She nodded, feeling his hands move down to her wound. She heard the sound of ripping fabric, as though from far away, and felt him press the fabric against her side. She winced at the pain, but he put her hand over it.

“Hold that there. Hard as you can.”

She did what he said, ignoring the pain that blossomed when she pressed against the cut. She tried to focus on remembering how to breathe. Frank put an arm around her shoulders and another under her knees. He lifted her like she weighed nothing and carried her out to his black car. He set her down as gently as he could, hurrying around to get the car started.

“Stay with me, honey,” he murmured, peeling out to get back to the highway. She heard the gravel hitting the windows. “You did so good back there. Just stay with me. I’m going to take care of you.”

“I know,” she mumbled back, leaning her head against the cool glass of the window. She knew Frank had told her to keep her eyes open, but the hum of the engine and the vibration of the car made it impossible.

The next thing she knew, Frank was carrying her into a brightly lit hospital. She blinked at the sudden onrush of light and sound. He shouted at the people behind the desk until they scurried to find a stretcher to take her into the emergency room.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, but they were already pulling her away from Frank. The last thing she saw before the doors closed was Frank’s eyes, staring right through her like always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading! You guys are the best! 
> 
> I know this update was a little short, but the next one will be back to normal (once I finish writing it). The next chapter will also be the last one, and it should be up by this weekend, if everything goes as planned.


	7. if he's a ghost, then i can be a phantom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen and Frank pick up the pieces after everything that happened and go back to the city.

Karen woke periodically to beeping monitors and nurses sticking her with needles. God, she really hated needles.

Every time her eyes opened, she looked for Frank, but he was never there. The drugs they had her on were strong enough that she didn’t have time to think about what that meant.

Until she woke up the last time. Her whole body ached, and she had heard doctors saying something about broken ribs, on top of the lacerations and concussion she already knew about. That probably explained why it was so hard to breathe.

She tried to sit up, but a rough hand gently pressed her back against the pillows. She saw a familiar pair of brown eyes that froze her in place.

“Relax, Karen.” His voice was rougher than usual, like he hadn’t slept. The bags under his eyes told her he probably hadn’t. He had a few new bruises on his face, and his knuckles were scabbed over.

“How long was I out? Where were you?” she asked. Her throat was dry, so it came out as more of a whisper than a question. Frank pressed a cup of water to her lips and she sipped, cool liquid soothing the rasp in her throat.

“I had business,” he said, looking carefully at the cup instead of at her as he put it down. “You’ve been out three days.”

“You figured out who was behind this? Behind Barracuda?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Who was it?”

Frank shook his head, eyes shifting to the door. Karen saw people bustling back and forth in the hallway she could see through the open door and she understood.

“Tell me later?” she said, and he jerked his head in a nod.

“Let’s get you out of here first,” he grunted. Karen nodded, and a nurse pushed through the door to take her vitals.

“If you feel up to it, we’d like you to eat something, and then we’ll see about getting you discharged,” the woman said, staring at something on Karen’s chart.

“Sure.” She wasn’t hungry, but if it meant they could go home, she would do whatever they asked. She was tired of being poked and prodded and measured within an inch of her life. And she had been unconscious for most of it. She shuddered to think about being aware of every test and procedure they had done on her for the last three days.

A few minutes later, a tray was brought in with some kind of soup and an extremely dry piece of bread. Karen choked down a few mouthfuls under the watchful eye of another nurse, and was relieved when she saw the woman nod at her.

“Now, Ms. Page, the doctor has written down the directions for taking your medications and changing your bandages. I’m going to give them to your husband.” She handed Frank an envelope bulging with papers.

Karen’s eyes flashed to Frank at the “husband” comment, but he was staring attentively at the nurse, back straight and hands folded.

She swallowed the lump of bread that felt like it was lodged in her throat and nodded at the nurse. “Great.”

When she was gone, Frank pulled a bag out from under his chair and laid out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, along with a matching bra and panties.

“Your clothes were ruined, so I thought…” he trailed off, and she thought she saw a blush rising in his stubbled cheeks. He refused to met her eyes and he was out of his chair and halfway to the door before Karen could even put her thoughts together into words.

“Frank,” she said softly. He stilled instantly, facing the door. “Stay, please. I might need your help.”

He turned, so slowly it was like he was talking himself into it, but he came back to her bedside and held out a hand to help her stand up. She pushed the blankets and sheets back and stood on shaking legs. The linoleum floor was cold under her feet and the air on her back raised goosebumps on her skin. She swayed a little and Frank’s hands shot out instantly to steady her.

She was glad she had asked him to stay when she tried to bend to put on the clothes he had brought her. She hissed in pain when the stitches across her chest tugged and her broken ribs scraped against each other. Her head spun and she nearly toppled over.

“Sit,” Frank grunted, hands guiding her back to the bed. Karen lifted one hand to hold her throbbing head and tried to focus on something that would make the room stop spinning. Her eyes landed on Frank and she watched his callused hands pick up the pastel-colored fabric and pull it onto her body. His fingers were warm on her cold skin and she shivered.

He dragged the cotton panties up her legs, tugging her back to her feet. She rested her hands on his broad shoulders and tried to steady her breathing. This was not the time to get caught up in how much she wanted him to touch her because he wanted to.

When he had managed to get the jeans up her legs and fastened, he looked up at her and she shrugged out of the hospital gown, letting it fall from her arms to land on the bed as she turned away from him. She heard Frank suck in a breath and felt his hands ghost over her shoulder blades, raising another kind of goosebumps on her skin. He handed her the bra and she slipped her arms through the straps. His fingers fumbled with the clasp before he managed to fit the pieces together. He held up the shirt and she raised her arms. Frank smoothed it down over her back, hands lingering at her waist for just a moment before releasing her.

“Thank you, Frank,” she murmured, turning to face him again. He was so close to her she could feel the heat roiling off his body. She let her forehead fall to his, and remembered that day in the hotel. Only this time, she was the one battered and broken, leaning on Frank for support.

“Hey,” he breathed, and her eyes fluttered open to see him staring at her. “Let’s go home.” He laid a gentle kiss on her lips and took her hand.

* * *

The drive back to the city felt like it was over in the blink of an eye, nothing but soft music playing to fill the silence, and Karen was heartened to see tiny green buds on the trees outside her apartment. She hadn’t been back since Barracuda and whoever he was working for had shot it to pieces and it was nice to see something fresh and new growing, where there had only been gunpowder and bullets before.

When she got inside, there was almost no sign that anything had happened, except for a few bullet holes in the plaster that she would have to patch.

“This part of the ‘business’ you were taking care of?” she said, smiling at Frank.

He reddened and ducked his head. “Part of it. I texted the lawyer you were okay, too.”

“And the other part?” she pressed, even as he led her to the couch and pressed her into the cushions. She pushed down the part of her heart that swelled to know Frank had contacted Foggy. She knew how he worried, and so did Frank.

Frank sank down beside her, letting out a long breath. “You were right. It was much bigger than just some junkies killing each other. Bigger even than Barracuda, whoever he was.” He paused, scowl flashing into a grin for a second. “Nice taste in men you got there, Page.”

“You should know,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder.

“That the first time you shot someone?”

She shook her head. “Not my first rodeo, remember?”

His smile widened for a moment, then disappeared. “I think you know who it all points back to,” he said quietly.

Karen’s heart sank. “Fisk?” she whispered, hoping her instincts were wrong.

Frank nodded, nose scrunching a little. “That shitbag wants out of prison, and he wants to clear the way for himself.”

“How? By taking trophies?”

“By scaring people enough that he can come back and take control again. He sent Barracuda out to make people afraid, but then you got in the way and they were afraid you were going to expose the whole thing. Or, at least that’s what his people said.”

“His people?” Her eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah,” Frank grunted. “His people. Nothing to worry about now.”

Karen sighed. “You were busy while I was out.”

“I needed to know you were safe. You know that.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I want you to be safe, too.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, smoothing her hair down her neck. “We’re safe now, here.”

“I know.” She paused, biting her lip to stop the words, but it was no use. “You know they’ll be back, though.”

“I know.” He squeezed her tighter. “Deal with that when it comes.”

She must have fallen asleep, because she woke the next morning in her own bed, wrapped up in her blankets, Frank’s arm locked around her waist. She turned to look at him, face only inches from his. He was snoring slightly, mumbled words falling out of his mouth, and the morning sun bathed every angle of his face in soft light.

Karen couldn’t help herself and trailed her fingers over one of the purple bruises on his cheek. He nuzzled into her touch and his eyes fluttered open. When he focused on her, a gentle smile broke across his face, and Karen wasn’t sure she had ever seen anything so beautiful.

“Morning,” he said, voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

“Morning,” she whispered back, not wanting to disturb the stillness they had finally found. She knew it couldn’t last forever, but for now, all she wanted was to stay here in this comfortable space they had created and forget the rest of it. They were never going to be perfect, and she wasn’t sure she could ever calm the storm inside Frank, or that she even wanted to anymore.

Frank kissed her so gently then that she thought she might cry, and she let herself get swept away until she couldn’t breathe. For right now, for this moment, she had everything she needed, and she was going to hold on. Both hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for reading! I considered making this an unhappy ending, but I just want Frank and Karen to have like one second of happiness, so I made it a happy ending for them (at least for now). I don't anticipate this will be my last Kastle fic, so hopefully I'll be back soon with more angst and fluff for these two. I hope you enjoyed the story, and I so appreciate all the kudos and comments. Thanks, guys!
> 
> If you want to find me on Tumblr, you can find me [here](http://mostlyactorsandfood.tumblr.com/). I'm not exclusively a Kastle blog, but there is a lot of Kastle content on it.


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